


Camping, For Fun

by Fanfic_For_The_Void



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Camping, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nature, Post-Episode: s03e01-e02 The Search, Romantic Tension, camping food, excessive use of the word warm, so many camping tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28092834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanfic_For_The_Void/pseuds/Fanfic_For_The_Void
Summary: Doctor Bashir invites Garak on a camping trip to Bajor, but Garak suspects there's some ulterior motive at work. What possible reason could Julian have for wanting him alone by a beautiful lakeside camping spot?
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 80
Kudos: 103





	1. The First Day

**Author's Note:**

> The word count got away from me on this one, so prepare yourselves for every camping thing I enjoy in real life, my various thoughts on nature, and probably a dozen times when they should have just kissed already gosh darn it! Wildly self indulgent fluff ahead!

“I’m sorry Doctor, you want me to  _ what _ ?” Garak asked, putting down the half finished blouse he was hemming with an incredulous stare.

“You know, camping! Forest, trees, tent, water…” Bashir grinned, gesturing grandly. 

“Camping,” the tailor repeated drily. He could scarcely believe his ears. “For fun.” Cleary, Julian had never been on a stakeout, sitting in a flimsy tent, in the freezing cold, for hours on end. Camping was by no means Garak’s idea of fun.

“Yes, for fun,” Bashir said with an eye roll. “Don’t you want to get away from the station?”

Garak merely fixed him with a look. He was going to have to do better than that.

Julian’s face crinkled in a grimace. “Fine. I would have asked Miles, but he doesn’t like me. Jadzia would have laughed me out of her quarters, and that leaves you. It’s not safe to camp alone,” he admitted.

“How nice to know that I made the top three,” Garak said, painting on a layer of mock surprise, with a dash of gratitude. It added up to a delightfully insincere expression, glowing with sarcasm.

Julian huffed, and Garak tallied a point in his mind, part of the endless game he and the doctor played. It was always such a pleasure to frustrate his lunch companion. He allowed himself a smile, letting the doctor know he was not offended.

“You would have been first on the list, but I had a feeling I’d meet resistance,” Bashir countered with a pointed look.

“Is that so?” Garak asked, eyes wide. Internally, he was calculating. Was this a white lie, meant to spare his feelings? Oddly enough, Garak found no falsity in the statement. Behind Bashir’s eyes was nothing but sincerity.

“Yes,” Julian confirmed. “Are you coming or not?” Those earnest eyes peered down at him, and Garak knew the battle was already lost.

“There are several commissions I would need to postpone, and you want me to close for two and a half days?” Garak complained. It was truly for show at this point, but there was no need to let the doctor think he’d won too easily.

“Yes please,” Bashir replied, those wide hazel eyes glinting with mirth. 

Letting out a gusty sigh, Garak folded the silky blouse. It wasn’t finished, and would stay that way for the next three days. “What should I pack?”

At 1100 hours the next day Garak stood waiting on the docking ring. Reviewing the very simple series of events that led him here, he concluded that he must be getting soft in his old age. His  _ human friend  _ had convinced him to go to  _ Bajor  _ of all places. 

As if summoned by his thoughts, Julian came jogging around the corner, weighed down by a backpack nearly twice the size of the one Garak carried, and a wide smile. He was out of uniform, in a deeply human outfit of cargo pants and a t-shirt emblazoned with the Starfleet Academy logo. Elim had no choice but to smile.

“Why doctor, I was beginning to think that you had no intention of joining me.” 

“I was halfway over here, then I realized I left my swim trunks in my quarters,” Bashir explained with a wave of his hand.

“What is that human expression?” Garak asked. “Ah yes. I believe you arrived ‘in the nick of time’. The shuttlecraft waits for no man.”

When he and Julian were seated comfortably in the small transport, Garak took the opportunity to needle Bashir about his frankly enormous pack.

‘Doctor, I was under the impression that this was to be a fairly short trip,” he said, eyes roving over the bag squashed between Julian and the back of the seat in front of him.

“There’s our entire food supply and a tent in here,” Bashir retorted. It came out rather muffled. His face was pressed into the backpack, which took up more than its fair share of space. Garak chuckled. The doctor looked so innocent, but something about this camping situation prickled in the back of the tailor’s brain. It was the inkling of an ulterior motive. Why did the doctor really want him down on Bajor?

The shuttlecraft was humming quietly. Although it was small, the floor plan was spacious, and the windows were large. Garak didn’t feel trapped in his aisle seat, and was free to observe the other passengers, two Bajoran women in the next aisle over. They tittered quietly, drowned out by the growing rattling noise of the ship.

“Look,” Julian breathed, head now smushed in the other direction. Craning his neck, and peering past the soft waves of his companion’s dark hair, Garak could see a deepening glow through the window of the shuttlecraft. They were entering the atmosphere. The rattle grew to a gusty roar, and the glow clarified into a sprawling vista of glimmering oceans and patchwork continents. He drew in a breath. It was more beautiful than he expected.

To his own astonishment, Garak found that he looked forward to being on planet. For one thing, it was guaranteed to be warmer than Deep Space Nine. It was summer in the Hedrikspool Province, and the tailor already imagined the sun warming his scales.

Turning back to face him, Bashir’s eyes were alight with the thrill of adventure. “Once we land in Jalanda, we can beam to the nature preserve, and find our campsite.”

“Find it? You don’t know where it is?”

“Well, I know approximately,” Julian admitted sheepishly.

As it turned out, “approximate” was an overstatement. 

“Doctor,” Garak grumbled. 

“We’re on vacation, call me Julian,” the doctor interjected, looking back with a grin as he ducked under a branch.

“Julian.” Garak conceded. “We have been hiking through the forest for nearly an hour.” At first, the hike had been delightful. It was a clear morning, and the sun filtering through the trees laid a dappled shade over the lush green underbrush. It was a welcome change from the bright chill of the station. The hike was still beautiful, but the weight of his pack was starting to press down on the tailor.

“It’s fun, isn’t it?” Bashir bubbled, nimbly stepping up and over a boulder on what could loosely be defined as the path.

“I do believe you and I should compare definitions of fun,” Garak puffed, clambering over the same boulder that his companion had so easily surmounted. Age, and a tailor's sedentary life had begun taking their toll. He didn’t think too hard about it.

Ahead of him, Bashir laughed. “Did you see that bird?” he asked, voice floating back through the leaves. Elim found that he couldn’t be bothered by the creak in his knees, not on such a lovely day.

“No, I’m afraid I didn’t,” he lied by habit, with a smile the doctor didn’t see. It had been a twittering red thing, shooting up through the canopy.

“Ha! We weren’t lost!” Julian shouted. “Garak, come here!”

Garak’s eye ridges raised. “I wasn’t aware we were lost to begin with,” he said, picking his way around some exposed roots. 

“That information was on a need to know basis,” Julian grinned. He stood at the end of the path, leaning against a tree, more smugly than Garak thought to be appropriate, given that the good doctor had nearly gotten them lost.

“I fail to see-” The tailor lost his train of thought as the forest opened up. Ahead of him the trees thinned to reveal a massive slab of sun baked bedrock Garak hadn’t known they were standing on. It towered above a glimmering blue lake, curving gently down to the waterline on one side. A tumble of boulders made up the other side, broken off long ago. The lake itself was small, no more than a kilometer long and half a kilometer wide, ringed with a blend of deciduous and coniferous trees. A small river let in and out at either end.

“Isn’t this spot great?” Julian asked, sliding his pack off his back. “I haven’t been camping since the Academy.” The doctor took in a deep breath and released a sigh. “Oh, the air smells fresher here.”

“I can’t disagree,” Garak breathed, taking in the scents of the area. The breeze tasted the way a good bolt of chiffon felt; crisp and light. It picked up the scents of the bedrock and plants as it rolled over them. Exhaling, Garak placed his pack beside the doctor’s. He rummaged around in it, pulling out a small case.

Julian turned around and snorted, covering his mouth. Garak eyed him suspiciously through the tinted lenses that now covered his eyes.

“Is there something you have to say?” Garak inquired. He had taken the liberty of replicating sunglasses, a human invention that rather suited his needs on this far too bright summer day. They were a tacky necessity, but smoothing a veneer of obliviousness over his features, he sold his innocence on this fact. For all Julian would know, this could be a fashion statement.

“No, nothing,” the doctor replied, pressing his lips together in a grimace. Elim grinned internally. “Actually yes, those must be the worst sunglasses I’ve ever seen,” Bashir said, leaning in to examine the offending article. It was beyond Garak’s capabilities to ignore how Julian’s nose crinkled, or the laughter in his eyes. “Why are they  _ iridescent _ ?” he asked, sounding pained.

“Are they not usually?” Garak asked, eyes wide. In fact, he had chosen this model for that exact property. Though unsightly, they complemented the swimwear Julian had insisted he bring, despite the general disdain Cardassians held for all that splashing around. The especially dark tint on the large round lenses was another factor in his choice.

“No!” Bashir cried. “You have to let me try them on though. They’re just so awful!”

“I will do no such thing,” Garak replied coolly, snapping the case shut with a pointed match to the doctor’s gaze. Julian took the bait, and snatched the sunglasses off of Garak’s nose, quick as a flash. Elim frowned, watching him gleefully shove them onto his face.

“That’s amazing!” Bashir gasped, twisting to look around the landscape. “The colours are somehow brighter, and everything is so crisp!” The joy on his friend’s face was illuminating. It warmed Garak more than the sun.

“I believe a chemical coat on the lenses is responsible for that useful feature,” Garak replied, fixing Julian with a look of mild irritation, as fabricated as the stolen lenses. 

“That doesn’t excuse how horrid they are,” the doctor replied, a frown furrowing his brow. Garak considered complaining about how bright the world was without said glasses, but he couldn’t be upset at Bashir, not with the shadow he was so generously providing, or the endearing enthusiasm he held for this whole venture.

“Horrid as they may be, they make this whole scheme of yours bearable. It is very bright here on Bajor,” Garak sighed, holding out a hand. 

Julian relinquished the glasses with a good natured grumble. “Let’s set up the tent, then you’ll have some shade,” he suggested. 

The mirthful glitter in Bashir’s eyes did nothing to dispel the fondness that clawed its way unbidden into Garak’s heart. He snorted. That beast was all too familiar. “Could I not simply return to the woods?” he parried, the easy banter a familiar routine.

“Yes, but this is a ploy to enlist your help in setting up,” Julian admitted, thrusting his arms deep into his pack.

“I hope you know I would have helped in any case,” Garak replied, crouching to hold down the bag which his companion was now shaking with his efforts to remove the tent.

From inside the bag came a muffled ‘thank you’. Julian was stuffed head and shoulders into the pack. With a final mighty tug that Garak pulled against, Julian re-emerged triumphant, clutching an unwieldy lump of fabric.

After only half an hour of procedure disagreements, the fabric being stolen by the breeze, and the poles rolling away, a sturdy looking blue tent stood successfully at the edge of the woods, pegs sunk into the soft leaf litter.

“I told you that the fly went on back to front,” Julian teased with a grin, bumping Elim with his shoulder. 

“I still believe that had we put it on from the front, you could have avoided tangling it in the tree,” Garak returned. Despite that little disaster, the tent had remained untorn. 

“Maybe it could have gone on either way,” Julian conceded. “Not bad though.”

Sizing up the shelter, Garak frowned. “It is a little small, isn’t it?”

“It’s a two person, it should be big enough for the both of us,” Bashir said. “I figured smaller would be better, conserve heat, you know?”

Garak forced a smile. “How considerate of you.” It would have been considerate, taking his cool Cardassian physiology into account. He had no objection to sleeping so close to his dear doctor, but unless that blue box was much bigger than it looked on the outside, Elim dreaded confinement in its fabric walls. As humiliating as his claustrophobia was, keeping it a secret had its disadvantages.

Bashir grinned back, oblivious. 

Garak’s fears were confirmed when he and Julian piled into the tent moments later, sleeping bags, mats, and pillows in tow. Analyzing his future sleeping area, Elim unrolled his mat. He and the doctor would fit, but only barely, pressed shoulder to shoulder. 

Focusing on the careful arrangement of his mat, Garak was able to ignore the fabric wall pressing at his right side. Breathe. A grunt from his left was all the warning he had before he was hit by a flying fist.

“Sorry!” Julian exclaimed, face a picture of horror. Elim clutched his jaw, more surprised than hurt.

“I was pulling the mat out from under my knees and I think I miscalculated,” Bashir said with a wince. He reached out and pulled Garak’s hand from his face. The gentle fingers that he ran along his jawbone were only a doctor’s analytical touch, but the contact pulled at Elim.

“You’re alright?” Julian asked with an apologetic smile, hand slipping back to his side.

“Quite,” Garak replied. If he were feeling fanciful, he would think that Julian’s hand had lingered a moment longer than necessary. “Perhaps it would be less hazardous if we were to do this one at a time,” he said, ducking back through the open tent flap.

Garak stood quickly, inhaling a breath of fresh air and stepping out onto the rock. The wide open view soothed his racing heart. Looking out over the lake, Elim sighed. Here he was, alone with Julian Bashir.

Two years ago he would have taken this opportunity to seduce the good doctor, but the game was different now. Against Garak’s better judgement, he counted Julian as a friend. The man’s relentless enthusiasm, honesty, and federation optimism had worn him down. At first the fresh faced doctor, oblivious to his flirtations, had been nothing but an interesting diversion, but as the weeks of lunches slid by, he had grown to respect Julian as his intellectual equal, even to care for him. What was once diversion had become a necessity. He should never have let himself become so attached.

Bashir’s voice floated over to where Garak stood. “Your turn!”

Garak huffed. It never benefited to let one’s thoughts run undisciplined. Back to the little blue prison.

He was being melodramatic when he had thought of the tent as a prison, but now, on his knees, breathing shallowly, it seemed less like a joke. Elim knotted his hands in the downy thickness of the sleeping bag, not looking at the walls. He focused on the draft from behind him. The door was open. He was not trapped. 

Garak was supposed to be setting up. He unrolled the sleeping bag with clumsy fingers. Making a conscious effort to take a deep breath, Elim pushed his fear down. An Obsidian Order operative was never emotionally compromised. If he couldn’t last a minute in here, he had no chance of lasting the night. Worry still simmered low in his chest. He wasn’t an operative any more. 

Although his belongings were in perfect order, Garak sat for a moment, adjusting to the space. Probing a corner of the tent with his fingers, the tailor calculated that with a concerted effort, he could rip one of the seams. He was not trapped, as small as the enclosure may be.

“Are you almost done, Garak?” Bashir called from outside.

“Nearly,” he replied. His voice was not as even as he would have liked. 

When Elim stepped back into the sun, Julian stood waiting with a ball of fabric in his arms.

“Would you help me set up the hammock?”

“Certainly,” Garak replied, smiling blandly.

Soon, he and Julian were wrapping wide straps around the trunks of two adjacent trees.

“Just hold your end out…” Bashir said, walking towards Garak as he unspooled the hammock. Garak nodded absently, complying as he scanned the landscape. There was something compelling about so much water in one place. 

A warm brush of fingers against his wrist caught Elim by surprise. Julian was carefully hooking the hammock on the metal ring that Garak held. His task complete, he looked back up at Elim with a grin. 

“Shall I try it out?”

As Julian stepped towards the centre of the hammock between them, Garak took a step back, smiling. On Cardassia, hammocks were considered children’s toys. 

Bashir removed his shoes and clambered over the edge of the fabric. Garak opened his mouth, prepared to tease, but Julian’s expression morphed into one of horror. In a split second, the hammock flipped out from under him. Unthinking, Elim lunged forward, arms outstretched, as the doctor fell. The catch was not an elegant one, merely a tangle of limbs that resulted in neither party hitting the ground face first.

Garak stared mesmerized into Julian’s warm hazel eyes, so close now. He held the doctor, arms wrapped around the man’s slender back. Julian clutched his neck, suspended horizontal, feet tangled in the hammock.

“You saved me,” he said, a smile ghosting across his face. 

“Yes,” Garak managed. He was acutely aware of the rise and fall of Bashir’s chest, the way his weight had settled onto him. “I deemed it to be in my best interests.”

Julian laughed, and Elim realized belatedly that he should put his friend down. He loosened his grip. 

“No! Don’t let go!” Bashir shrieked, clinging desperately to Garak. “I need to get my feet on the ground first!”

“Of course,” Elim replied, mentally chastising himself. Perhaps he should be paying more attention to his surroundings than the man in his arms. 

Julian wiggled, leaning into him as he kicked at the hammock. His head pressed into the crook of Elim’s neck, soft hair tickling at his cheek. Garak breathed in, savouring the clean scent of Julian’s shampoo.

Bashir returned to the earth with a thump. He smiled, unlooping his arms from Garak’s neck. 

“I think we’re all set up.” he said. “Maybe I’ll try the hammock again later, but you’re welcome to it.” 

“Perhaps I shall manage to stay in it,” Garak teased. “But I fail to see why you brought this children’s toy.”

“Children’s toy?” Julian frowned.

“Yes, for infants just out of swaddling. The swing entertains them while their parents complete household tasks. I can’t imagine what purpose an adult human would have for one,” Garak explained.

He could imagine that a hammock would make a comfortable sort of chair, even for an adult, but it was so much more entertaining to be contrary, to feign ignorance. He had learned long ago that Julian would never recognize his jibes and jabs as the flirtation they were. He had reciprocated, unknowing, and debate had become a part of their odd friendship. Quite frankly, Garak was in too deep to quit now.

“Cardassians clearly need to expand their horizons on hammocks. Everyone deserves to sit in one at least once when they’re old enough to remember it,” Julian asserted. 

“Despite your clear lack of good judgement, as shown by your taste in ‘earth classics’, I will take your advice,” Garak said, “but perhaps a little later.”

“Mmm, let me pretend to be hurt,” Bashir replied, leaning back against a tree with a lazy smile. “Want to go swimming?”

“Julian, you are aware that Cardassians are from a desert planet, and have neither love for, nor tradition of aquatics, yes?” Garak complained. 

“Yes. I didn’t say you had to come, but I think you may enjoy it.” Bashir challenged, pushing off from the tree.

“Did I say I wasn’t going to? Garak asked, innocent smile bordering on smirkish.

Julian chuckled. “No. Get changed.”

Slipping into the forest, pack in tow, Garak complied. He was rather proud of the swimsuit he had sewn a couple years ago, but he rarely had cause to use it. It was a sleek number, covering him from knee to elbow, with a high collar. The fabric was midnight black, but when the sun hit it, subtle rainbows danced across the surface. Placing his sunglasses back on the bridge of his nose, Garak strode barefoot out onto the bedrock.

Julian stood waiting, in what must have been the most hideous swim trunks Garak had ever seen. Elim let his backpack fall to the ground with a thud. The repulsive fabric on Bashir’s long legs was an offensively bright shade of orange, patterned with not one, but two colourful earth animals, in green and pink.

“Julian, what in the name of the Hebitian gods are you wearing?” Garak hissed, scarcely believing his eyes. Actually, he should have expected this, if the civilian clothes he had seen Julian wear were of any indication.

“Swim trunks?” Bashir replied, brows furrowed in a regrettably charming frown.

“What is  _ on _ them?”

“Flamingoes and crocodiles, they’re fun, aren’t they?” 

“Fun is not the word I would use,” Garak said, horrified. “Are you perchance colourblind? I heard that this ailment once afflicted humans. It would certainly explain… those,” he continued, throwing a disdainful look at the garment in question.

“I think that your fashion tastes and mine simply differ, Garak,” Julian countered with a smile.

“They differ in the sense that I have them.”

“You can’t pretend you didn’t appreciate the blue shirt I wore two weeks ago.”

“Of course I appreciated it, I made it,” Garak said with a roll of his eyes.

“You may have made it but I chose it, which I believe is a testament to my taste,” Bashir returned, looking smug.

“In my shop you could not have chosen something unsightly. It’s quite simple. I sell clothes that look good,” Garak said loftily.

“I can’t argue with that,” Julian admitted, looking Elim up and down. “Is this what a Cardassian swimsuit looks like?”

“There is no such thing as a Cardassian swimsuit. This is my own design,” Garak replied, smoothing the fabric on his abdomen.

“It looks good.”

“Why thank you,” Garak said. He would have taken this opportunity to make eye contact and intimate a dozen things, but Bashir’s gaze was still tracing the lines of his body. It was gratifying to know that the fit was as flattering as he had planned. All the more gratifying that Julian seemed to appreciate the craftsmanship, despite his woeful lack of taste. Elim smiled. “I invite you to go on ahead of me. I intend to soak up some sunshine before braving the waters.”

Julian nodded. “I’ll see you underwater,” he said with a grin. Garak watched the doctor’s retreating back as he trotted down to the water's edge. With an elegant dive, he was gone beneath the rippling surface.

Elim let out a breath, legs folding as he took a seat on the warm rock. He was alone for the time being. Safe. Although he did not expect Julian to physically harm him, he suspected that some ulterior motive was at work. Why else would Bashir deviate from their usual pattern of weekly lunch? Although this camping ruse seemed flimsy, he could think of no reason why Julian would put it together.

Elim sighed. Old habits died hard. Julian had made it clear time and time again that he was not his enemy. Garak decided to withhold judgement until more evidence presented itself. Was he being paranoid? Perhaps. Being paranoid had kept him alive in the employ of the Obsidian Order, but he was no longer a spy. Closing his eyes, Elim pushed his suspicions away, and concentrated on the warmth of the sun on his back. He had no reason to believe he was in danger.

“Garak!” Bashir called. Brief meditation interrupted, Elim’s eyes opened to the bright sun again. Julian was splashing a dozen feet from shore, enormous smile and wet hair plastered to his face. “You have to try the water, it’s divine!” 

A smile stole over Elim’s face in response. The doctor was so enchantingly human in this moment, unrestrained and joyful. He was a delightful contrast to the prim Cardassian sobriety Garak had always known.

“In a moment, my dear,” Elim replied. The term of endearment slipped in as it often did, floating on a wave of fondness.

Julian held up both hands, thumbs extended in that jovial human gesture, then disappeared back into the blue.

Garak still felt the smile on his face. He had always been able to read Bashir easily. The man wore his innermost emotions like a fashionable jacket, showing them off on his smooth, expressive face, whether or not he meant to. Reviewing the puzzling last two days, Garak could find no evidence of hidden ire, or guilt. If Julian were hiding something, it was benign.

With one last press of his palms against the delicious warmth of the bedrock, Garak stood. He returned his sunglasses to their case, and removed his black shoes. He padded down to the water’s edge, more reservedly than the doctor had.

Julian’s head broke the surface again. “Watch out, the rock is slippery!”

“Thank you,” Garak replied, stepping carefully onto the wetter portion of the rock. It was indeed somewhat treacherous. Testing his footing, Garak took another step into the water. It was cool, but not unpleasantly so. The insulation in the black fabric he wore would be more than sufficient. Taking a third, tentative step, Garak’s foot slipped. With a lurch of his stomach, he felt himself falling. Too late to remain upright, he launched himself forward, managing to execute a passable dive.

He knifed into the water, a rush of bubbles trailing after him. Garak’s whole body felt alive with sensation as liquid engulfed him. He opened his eyes, looking up at the surface of the water, as his momentum died, and buoyancy took over. Arms and legs trailing, he rose toward the mosaic of reflection above him, blue sky warped and shining.

Breaking the surface was like breaking into another world, one that already seemed foreign despite having left it only moments ago.

“For a non-swimmer that was a good dive,” Julian said, sweeping his dripping hair from his forehead. With his brown hair wet, it looked almost black, and now, the style of it looked almost Cardassian as well.

“Whatever gave you the impression that I was not a swimmer?” Garak replied, smiling enigmatically as he treaded water.

“You said that Cardassians didn’t swim!”

“I said that the average Cardassian did not swim. As I am sure you are aware, I am not the average Cardassian,” Garak explained smugly. 

Julian grumbled, vocalization turning to a stream of bubbles as he sank into the water. Light brown legs kicked out of the water, then dropped below the surface. At that moment, Garak felt a tap at his ankle. Looking down, he could just make out Julian pointing into the mess of rocks making up the underwater landscape. To Garak’s surprise, Julian’s hair floated around his head like the plants that grew from the cracks between the rocks. Cardassian hair didn’t misbehave like that underwater. Garak marked that down as another human quirk. Following his companion, he plunged into the depths. Bashir now slapped at his arm, still pointing. A couple metres away, a narrow silver fish wriggled its way around the stones.

Garak propelled himself lazily above it, matching its speed as he observed it. The fish had little meat on it, but when it came to bare survival, less would do. He drifted closer, poised to capture it with a lightning fast hand. If he was being honest with himself, this was an exercise in vanity. Julian did not understand the place food held in Cardassian courtship rituals, and as such, catching a fish was just a demonstration of skill. 

Ensuring his shadow did not alert his quarry, Garak closed in. Just as he was about to make his move, Julian’s lithe form shot past him, arms outstretched. Elim imagined a terrified scream as the fish fled, outsripping Julian easily. 

The problem with other people was that they often ruined your carefully laid plans. 

Garak had planned to spend his exile unattached, ready to disappear at a moment’s notice once he worked his way back into the good graces of the Cardassian Central Command. Nobody would even notice he had left. Now, the thought of leaving Terok Nor, or Deep Space Nine as he had begun to think of it, did not seem quite as easy.

Surfacing for air, Garak was struck again by the beauty of the landscape around him. It was so different from the monotonous grey of the past few years, and the walls of the station. Julian’s smiling face emerged from the water in front of him. That much was the same.

“How do you like the water?” he asked, swiping the flattened hair from his brow.

“The water is excellent,” Elim admitted, relishing the feel of the liquid around him.

“I was prepared to argue with you!” Julian teased. “I can’t believe you’d deny me that pleasure.”

“It wouldn’t do to become predictable.” Despite the coolness of the water, it warmed Elim to think that the doctor relished the thrill of their debate as he did. With an enigmatic smile to match Bashir’s, Garak disappeared beneath the water once more.

The pair spent the next sun drenched slice of the day in the lake, only leaving to jump off of boulders for the fun of it, splashing back down into the water. Below the surface, they twisted and turned, inspecting rocks and small crustaceans with all the adventurous fervour of great explorers. Battles of words as they floated on the surface mingled with battles of splashes, the first of which had caught Garak very much by surprise. Another human tradition.

Now, Elim watched Julian stroke back to shore, outlined in the golden light of the early evening sun. The human had had his fill of the water, but Garak was not so easily sated. For the first time in a long while he felt powerful and free. The water called to him again, and he slipped below the surface. Underneath, the world was cool and unknown. Elim traversed this alien landscape, not yet desensitized to its beauty. 

Some minutes later, a muted sound caught his attention.

A couple metres to his left, a rock sank through the water, followed by a trail of bubbles. Swimming over to investigate, Elim noted that it was not covered by the same fine moss as the other stones. On its surface were scratches. Picking it up and bringing it close to his face, into relative focus, the scratches clarified into letters. Scraped into the rock was a short label, “E + J”. Tucking the stone in close to his chest, Garak swam for shore. In the shallow waters, he let it fall, taking note of where it lodged. Just a little left of the square green boulder.

After another quarter hour, even the insulation in Garak’s swimsuit was insufficient to forestall the gradual cooling of his extremities. As he clambered carefully up the slippery bedrock, legs readjusting to the nature of walking on land, Julian trotted down to meet him.

“Need a hand?” he asked, arm outstretched.

“Thank you,” Garak replied as the doctor clasped a warm hand around his own. 

“Are you hungry?” Bashir asked. “I know I skipped lunch.”

“Somewhat. What did you have in mind?”

“You’ll see. Get changed, and we’ll build a fire,” Julian said, pulling Elim up the slope of the rock. How curious that he hadn’t relinquished his hand.

When Garak reemerged from the woods, warmer and drier, Bashir strode up to him. 

“I already found some larger firewood, but we still need kindling. Would you mind gathering some?” he requested. Elim nodded, laying his swimsuit out to dry and heading back into the trees. 

It was intriguing how Julian assumed the role of host, directing Garak around a landscape neither he nor presumably the doctor had ever visited. Picking up a handful of twigs, Garak idly imagined inviting his dear doctor to Lakarian City. When he directed him to the most beautiful architecture and art, or shared the most succulent local cuisine, would Julian’s eyes light up the way they did over every lunchtime debate? 

An image came to Elim, of Julian gripping his arm, as he pointed at the sweeping towers of the Cardassian Museum of Art, an enormous smile for him and him alone. Here on Bajor, that moment on Cardassia seemed closer than he would have thought possible. Elim shook his head, chastising his sentimentality as he returned to the rock, arms now full of twigs.

“Oh, Garak, good! Will you pass those to me?” Julian called, crouched in front of a pile of logs that looked to be an adequate fire setup.

“Certainly,” Garak replied, lowering himself down across from Bashir. Handing him half his pile of hard earned sticks, he began tucking the remainder between the carefully balanced logs. 

Julian flashed him a smile over the wood pile, and coincidentally, Elim dropped the twig he was holding, like an idiot. He had meant to balance it between two pieces of bark. Being this easily distracted was almost laughable, so Garak smiled back.

“I think it’s ready,” Bashir said, pulling a box of matches from the pack beside him. With a nod to Garak he struck one, which hissed pleasantly as he lowered it to a crumpled bit of paper.

“Here’s hoping this paperwork is as flammable as it is antiquated,” the doctor grinned.

“I was unaware that starfleet still used paperwork in the true sense of the word,” Garak said, watching Julian frown as the match burnt out.

“They generally don’t, but sometimes I replicate the work I need to do on real paper. Do PADDs ever make your head swim if you look at them too long?” Bashir explained. “Damn,” he mumbled, a second match fizzling and dying as it failed to light the fire.

“After hours poring over my designs I do find that my eyes are fatigued,” Garak agreed. “Perhaps I should adopt your strategy.” Poor Julian was struggling with yet a third match that refused to cooperate.

Reaching over the woodpile, Elim closed his hands over Julian’s, palming the matchbox. “I believe my side of the fire has better ventilation.” He would be lying if he said it wasn’t just an excuse for a moment of touch. Julian’s hands were as warm as he had come to expect.

Striking a match, he lowered it to a piece of thin, curling bark, which at first seemed as stubborn as Bashir’s paper. Just as the flame was about to reach Garak’s fingers, the bark began to blacken and curl, the barest ribbon of fire taking a foothold.

“Oh, well done!” Bashir exclaimed. As the kindling burned, a plume of smoke rose up. Before too long, the wood was burning cleanly, waves of heat replacing the admittedly wonderful smelling smoke. 

From his pack, Julian pulled two small folding stools, a short cylindrical container, a small metal grill, a couple dull knives, and a clear container divided into sections that seemed to contain food items.

“Have you ever had a hamburger?” Julian asked from his stool, beside Garak. 

“I can’t say that I have,” Garak said, wondering which of Julian’s food items was a hamburger. He recognized some form of bread, onions, cheese and tomatoes, but not the chunky green sludge, or smoother red and yellow pastes that slid around in the clear container. 

“Well, once this burns down to coals I’ll get cooking,” Julian said. “But for now, we just sit back and enjoy it.”

“Were we on Cardassia, this would be a time for debate,” Garak pointed out. He certainly would not be opposed to a rousing battle of wits, him and Julian intertwined in an intellectual embrace. Elim had long ago accepted that any other kind of embrace was not on the table.

Julian laughed. “Of course it would be. Tell me Garak, what did you think of  _ The Hobbit _ ?”

“I cannot accept that Bilbo is the story's hero. What honor is there in sullying your family’s name, going off on some fantastical adventure, letting your life and home fall to ruins?” Garak complained. The familiar banter was as warm as the fire.

Privately, he found it rather noble that the young hobbit had risked life and limb to help restore the line of Durin to its former greatness. Such un-Cardassian sentiments were better kept to himself, if only to frustrate the good doctor. He had no doubt that Bashir would accept these all too human opinions, not because they were the same as his own, but because time and time again, he had accepted Garak, unacceptable flaws and all. 

“Furthermore, framing Thorin’s determination to retain the Arkenstone and other gems as a form of illness is vile. It is the very heart of his duty to the line of Durin, and his people, to reclaim this symbol,” Garak continued, watching Julian’s developing frown with delight.

His companion’s response was all that it should be- passionate, well backed, different from his own. The orange glow of the low sun highlighted the smooth human planes of Julian’s expressive face as he expounded on the virtues of a good adventure. It struck Garak now, as it often did, that Julian was beautiful, even startlingly so. Today, tomorrow, he had him all to himself. A rare gift. 

“...Arkenstone, yes, but you can’t honestly believe that the gems of Lasgalen were still within Thorin’s right to pursue. The gold-sickness is an elegant metaphor for addiction.”

Now this was something Garak could work with. As their sweet repartee continued, the sun sank ever lower, and the fire burnt to coals, as promised.

“The fire’s ready. Pass me the blue container?” Julian asked. With a neat toss, Garak complied. What mysteries could the cylinder contain?

Unscrewing the lid, Bashir revealed a pink slab of what could be meat.“You know, I grew up on replicated food. I never learned to cook for myself,” the doctor said, tipping the meat onto the metal grill. “I had to ask Commander Sisko how to make these,” he continued, a second slab sliding out. To Garak, they looked unappetizing, but he knew better than to judge by appearances. “He was delighted that I wanted to take advantage of his cooking expertise.”

“Are you implying that you learned how to cook for this venture?” Elim asked. Cooking for a paramour was one of the most tender stages of a Cardassian courtship. Between debates and posturing there was still room for this. A quiet moment of service, of sharing.

“Well, I wanted your experience with human food to be better than the replimat. You deserve to taste a good hamburger,” Julian said, smiling hopefully. 

Julian learned to cook for  _ him _ .

“I’m certain that whatever you cook will be a shining example of human cuisine,” Garak replied, in pleasant shock. It came out more sincere than he wanted. It was supposed to be a touch disparaging, a compliment one had to contemplate to understand as such. Throughout their friendship, he had complimented the doctor a thousand times over, but Elim had grown to realize that human compliments were much less subtle than Cardassian ones. Perhaps it would do better to tell Julian how beautifully his eyes shone in the firelight, or how much he treasured their lunches together. Sentimental and overdramatic, yes, but true.

The sound and smell of sizzling meat hit Garak in a wave.

“I don’t think this will take too long. You can start dressing your burger.”

“Dressing it?” Garak frowned.

Julian laughed. “There aren’t any clothes involved. Take a bun and put some condiments on it.”

Warily, Garak grabbed one of the dull knives, and scooped some of the green, red, and yellow slimes onto his bun. Finding their odour inoffensive, he topped them off with slices of onion and tomato. He had never been fond of cheese.

Bun ‘dressed’, Garak sat back and watched as Bashir held the grill over the glowing coals. In a couple minutes, he declared the hamburgers ready.

As it turned out, the two halves of the bun went around the burger in a form of hot sandwich.

“Go on, try it,” Julian encouraged, looking a little too excited for Garak’s peace of mind.

“We don’t seem to have plates or cutlery,” he pointed out. He still held the hamburger on an outstretched palm, unsure how to handle this oversight with no knowledge of where Bashir may have hidden the silverware.

“Take a bite,” Julian said, smile growing wider. Garak was taken aback.

“This is far too large to be finger food,” he said, eyeing his hamburger suspiciously. He had always eaten the human sandwiches Bashir had foisted on him with a fork and knife, as Cardassian manners dictated.

“I know,” Bashir said. “It’s time for you to try something new.” 

“The things I do for you, Doctor,” Elim sighed, taking a bite. It felt deeply wrong, juice dripping out of the back of the bun and onto his hands.

“How do you like it?” Julian asked, eyes shining with mirth.

“It’s delicious,” Garak admitted. The warm meat was tender, and paired with the crisp vegetables and soft bun it created an incredible dish.

“Maybe you should defer to my good judgement more often,” Julian smirked, taking an enormous bite of his own burger.

Garak snorted, and Julian smiled. He savoured the taste of the meal his companion had cooked for him.

Hands sticky and stomach full, Garak took in the golden lit landscape as he headed down to the water’s edge. Rinsing his hands, he smiled to himself. 

“Come back, I built up the fire,” Julian called, voice floating over the bedrock. As Garak approached the fire again, now an orange blaze, he saw that Julian had moved his stool around to his side of the fire. The doctor sat, elbows on his knees, gazing into the middle distance.

“It’s been years since I’ve seen a sunset,” he murmured reverently. Garak sat beside him. Small clouds had rolled in as the pair ate dinner, and were now painted from below in shades of pink as the sun glowed orange, sliding into the treeline. It was beautiful. 

“Likewise,” Garak replied, entranced. The things he had missed in his exile. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Julian straighten up.

“Thank you for coming camping with me, Garak,” he said, looking at Garak over his shoulder. “I know I bullied you into it.”

“My dear doctor, you should know by now that it is much more difficult than that to get me to do something I don’t want to,” Garak replied with a coy smile.

“I suppose so,” Julian said, cracking a grin. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Immensely.” For once, it was the truth. As a comfortable silence settled, Garak’s gaze drifted back to the fire. The tendrils of flame twisted and roiled, their wild movements an inverse mirror of his thoughts. The wash of heat and writhing patterns, appearing and disappearing in an instant, soothed him. Instead of running, his mind now wandered. It wandered, as it often did, in dear Julian’s direction. 

To his left, the man sat staring into the fire, the sleeves of the oversized blue hoodie he had donned pulled up over his hands. Julian looked almost delicate, swallowed up by the sweater. Garak felt the absurd urge to protect him. The good doctor needed no protection. There was a faraway expression on his face, and a small smile. Elim liked to claim that he knew what Julian was thinking when it came to literature, but now he had not even a guess. 

Julian looked over at him, surprise flitting across his features. His smile warmed as he met Garak’s gaze, already turned towards him. Caught. Bashir tilted his head, analyzing for a moment. Elim smiled. It would be so easy to close the distance between them, only a couple inches now, and taste that smile. Run an arm around those slim shoulders and pull him close.

“You know, on Cardassia, we celebrate a Fire Night every autumn. An entire family will gather around a bonfire and sing hymns of our history.” Garak said. Not today.

“Are you telling me Cardassians have campfire songs?” Julian asked, looking far too delighted for Garak’s peace of mind

“Hymns,” he corrected warily.

“Could you teach me one?”

“I’m afraid it has been many years since my last Fire Night. I don’t recall any.” Garak said softly. It was a twisting of the truth. Fire Nights had been few and far between during his life on Cardassia. He remembered them in perfect clarity, but the memories were not good ones.

“Ah.” Julian said gently. “Maybe I should teach you a human campfire song.” Garak suspected that the doctor had understood more from his lie than he had meant to share.

“I warn you, I’m not much of a singer.”

“Neither am I,” Julian replied with a grin. “Let’s see. I think you might like  _ Auntie Monica _ .”

As it turned out,  _ Auntie Monica _ was a song about a woman who was a sartorial nightmare. Her feathered hat, wide skirt, and general swinging demeanour caused her neighbours to exclaim “Ooh la lah” whenever she was seen shopping. Unable to say no to Julian, Garak had even participated in the ridiculous movements representing the woman’s attire as described in each verse.

“See, that’s the great thing about campfire songs, they get you moving. From a physician’s standpoint, I appreciate it,” Bashir chuckled, flopping back down onto his folding stool.

“That’s very well, but I find it hard to believe you thought I would like ‘our Aunt Monica’s’ choice of clothing.” Garak said. “Have you still learned nothing about fashion through observation of my wares?”

“Oh, I knew you’d hate it!” Julian cackled. Garak couldn’t be affronted, having used this very tactic on Julian many a time when selecting a Cardassian literary work. There could be little debate without disagreement.

“I applaud your cunning,” Elim said, offering a few polite claps and an impish smile.

“Okay, let me try again. This one I actually think is rather sweet. It’s from an old earth musical theatre production called  _ The Sound of Music _ ,” Julian said, holding out his hands. One palm was facing up, the other down. “Here, face me and put your hands out the same way. This works better with more people, but this song is about a flower. I know how you feel about orchids,” he continued, motioning for Garak to come closer.

Bemused, Elim complied, one hand hovering over Julian’s, the other under. “I hope this song treats this flower better than  _ Auntie Monica _ treated fashion,”

Julian laughed. Soon, Garak was being taught a simple pattern, slapping his partner’s hand, his own legs, and his own hand. By now, the sky was a cool blue-grey, fading to black.

“...and the lyrics go edelweiss, edelweiss, blossom of snow- well, I suppose you’ll figure it out.”

Garak did in fact figure it out. The song was almost Cardassian, the small flower a symbol of the state, blessing the homeland forever. 

He stared into Julian’s eyes, most light now coming from the fire. Slap slap slap, slap slap slap. It was a soft melody, well suited to his own rather quiet singing voice. 

Eventually, Julian trailed off, the crackling of the fire the only sound remaining. Their palms were touching now. Did he know that- He must know what he was doing, that look in his eyes. Garak scarcely dared breathe. Julian’s eyes still held his, startlingly honest. Elim’s heart pushed at his chest, saying  _ closer, closer _ . He ignored it, still trying to guess what Julian was playing at. Was this another lunchtime game?

“Garak I-” Julian murmured. He coughed, one hand pulling away, arm covering his mouth. “I think you should learn another song,” he said loudly, both arms returning to his sides, holding the edge of the stool. Garak’s hands fell to his lap.

“Very well,” he said, smile a little forced. He did end up learning three more songs. One rather lewd and culturally inaccurate one about a Voluptuous Vulcan Vixen, another in a charming call and response format that featured being chased by a bear. Julian had explained that a bear was a large earth omnivore, generally considered frightening. This cleared things up as Garak was under the impression a bear was… something else. Yes, the songs had been cheerful, but none of them had given him an opportunity to touch Julian again. 

The final song was warm and quiet. Julian sang it by himself, staring into the depths of the fire, now only coals again, barely staving off the inky darkness. There was a yearning in the lyrics, a wanderlust, but also a loneliness.

_ Have you ever seen the sunrise turn the sky completely red? - On the loose where I am free. On the loose to live my life the way I think my life should be. - But in time when you are ready, come and join me, take my hand, and together we'll find life out on the loose. _

“I think I’ll turn in,”Julian said softly, offering Elim a half smile.

“I’ll join you in a moment.”

Garak sat, staring into the dying coals. He had almost forgotten about the small blue tent. When he had waited long enough to be sure Bashir had finished changing, and then some, he headed for the tent. His walk was slow, and he knew he was stalling. Unzipping the flap and grabbing his backpack, he saw Julian seated cross legged on top of his sleeping bag, a real paper book in hand. He wore blue striped pyjamas, and gave Garak a wave and a smile. Garak smiled back, but below his skin, anxiety was rolling.

Heading out to the forest, Elim focused on his breathing as he changed into his sleepwear.

Trudging back to the tent, Garak approached the situation logically. The tent was simple to escape, and he was not trapped in it. He could leave any time he chose. The walls were not walls either, only fabric. He should not be afraid.

Settling into his own unzipped sleeping bag, those placations seemed weaker. He couldn’t even stand up here.

“Would you like me to turn out the torch?” Bashir asked. 

“Yes, thank you.”

Breathe in. Breathe out. 

“Garak, you didn’t zip up the tent flap,” Julian grumbled, sitting up and performing the task which Elim had so carefully avoided. “We could get bugs.”

“Apologies.” He had hoped that the doctor would not notice. The piece of the outdoors that he could no longer see weighed heavily on him.

“G’night Garak,” Julian mumbled into his pillow. 

“Goodnight.”

Elim had slept in tougher conditions than this, yet he couldn’t make his eyes close. Heart pounding, he stared at the fabric ceiling above him, trying to be sensible. This tent wasn’t so small. He could stretch his limbs and- he looked at the now closed, cruel, confining door flap and couldn’t breathe. Clawing at his sleeping bag, limbs jerking chaotically, he had to get out. Legs still tangled in the sleeping bag he fumbled at the zipper, drawing in shaky breaths. Not fast enough not fast enough he couldn’t breathe out out-

“Garak what are you-”

Yanking himself through the doorway, he met the cool kiss of the night air, and stumbled away from the tent. 

Leaning against a tree, he took in gulp after gulp of air, staring up at the wide open sky.

“Garak?” Julian called, striding up to him, torch gripped in hand. 

“Fresh air,” Elim gasped, attempting to quell the shaking.

“Are you alright?”

Garak pasted on what little of his smile he could muster, attempting to dispel Bashir’s growing concern. “Perfectly fine thank you, I am afraid I simply-”

“No. You’re not. Tell me.”

Julian’s eyes bored into him.

The transparency of panic. He had seen it so many times in the interrogation room. Out of all people, he should have known that it was not easily concealed. 

‘I’m not very comfortable with small spaces,” Elim grimaced. There it was. Another of his secrets laid bare before Julian.

“Oh,” Julian sighed with relief, shoulders falling. “You’re claustrophobic.”

“I believe that is the word for it, yes,” Garak replied, some of his acidity restored.

“I wish I had known. I could have brought a bigger tent,” Julian said, all too tenderly.

“ _ I _ wish that you would never have discovered this weakness of mine, but you insist on prying,” Garak hissed. He did not need the doctor’s pity. The quicker he convinced the man that this was a momentary lapse, the better.

“Thank you for trusting me,” Julian replied with a small smile, placing a hand on Elim’s shoulder. Honesty shone from his every stupid human pore. Oh, he was infuriatingly kind! With a sigh, Garak softened. Perhaps one day he would get used to the way that Julian disarmed him so thoroughly.

“I do believe I’ll be prepared to return to the tent in a moment, so long as you permit me to leave the flap open,” he said.

“No!” Julian exclaimed. “You’re not going back in there, doctor’s orders!”

“This is not a health issue, and besides, we are here as friends, not as doctor and patient,” Garak protested. Although he would not enjoy being back in the little blue prison, he should be able to handle it with the door open.

“No. Wait here,” Bashir said, pointing at Garak as he backed away, expression firm. The teasing lilt to his raised eyebrows betrayed him though, and Elim cracked a real smile in response.

In a moment, who he assumed was Julian came walking back towards him, though it was hard to tell behind the loads of bedding in his arms.

“We’re sleeping outside,” Julian said, dropping the sleeping bags and mats he carried on the ground.

“Really, I must protest. There’s no need to sacrifice your comfort for me.”

“Sacrifice? Who said anything about sacrifice? I think this will be fun,” Bashir grinned.

“I can see there will be no convincing you otherwise.”

Before too long, the pair were set up on the ground, staring up into the shifting treetops.

“You know, Julian, your sleepwear leaves something to be desired,” Garak said loftily, pinching the fabric covering the arm beside him.

“What’s wrong with my pyjamas?” Bashir complained, rolling over to face him.

“Colour, collar, cut, fabric… Need I go on?” Garak said with a smirk. Again, he was intimately close to the doctor, faces mere inches apart.

“They’re comfy!”

“As are mine, but they do not look like they belong to a child.”

“My pyjamas are not childish. You're just picky,” Julian retorted. Even in the darkness, Garak’s Cardassian eyes could easily pick up the curve of his smile.

“I prefer the term discerning.”

“Whatever you say,” Julian teased.

“I believe you would be much happier with a set made of Andorian silk, like mine. Superior breathability, and sinfully soft.”

“What, with a monogrammed pocket like yours?” Bashir replied with a snort.

“I don’t see why not,” Garak said, purposefully ignoring the disparaging tone. Yes, the monogrammed ‘G’ was a touch extravagant, but it was a rather entertaining bit of hand embroidery to practice.

“Well, they don’t look very warm.”

“Like I said, very breathable. Excellent under a heap of blankets.”

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Not at the moment, no,” Garak said. He had failed to consider the cool night temperatures when packing for this trip. Although he was currently comfortable, would he still be in a couple hours as the day’s heat bled away?

“I guess you won’t be zipping up your sleeping bag, which could lead to issues with body heat conservation and…” Julian frowned, looking at Garak with his head propped up on his hand. A flash of inspiration crossed his face. “Hold on,” he said, wriggling out of his sleeping bag and grabbing the torch between them.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Garak called after Julian’s retreating back. 

The bouncing light of the torch, directly in Garak’s eyes signalled his companion’s return. As he blinked away the white spots in his vision, there was a thump, and a bundle landed on his chest.

“Why don’t you wear that?” Julian asked, flopping back down beside him. Sitting up, Garak picked up the thing. It seemed to be fabric. Holding it up, he realized exactly what it was. Julian had brought him his hoodie. 

“Thank you,” Elim breathed, eyes wide. Hardly daring to believe his luck, he slipped the blue garment over his head. Oversized on Julian, it fit him well. 

“Cozy?” Bashir asked, grinning widely.

“Quite.” The sweater was well worn, fraying at the cuffs, soft from many cycles in the sonic scrubber. It was not a fabric that Elim would have chosen for himself, but it felt perfect.

Julian’s smile was warm. “Sweet dreams, Garak.”

“Goodnight Julian.”

Still reeling, Garak burrowed into the privacy of his sleeping bag, only now daring to inhale deeply. The hoodie smelled of woodsmoke and Julian, Julian,  _ Julian _ . Pressing a sleeve to his face, Garak breathed in again, emotions washing over him. He didn’t know when Julian had become so important to him, but it was time he stopped ignoring the fact that his heart was no longer his own.

Elim drifted off to sleep. His head was full of improbable hopes and dreams wrapped in layers of worn cotton, and threaded through with a scent that was not his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter I would like to thank the wonderful [DHW](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DHW) and [BangtanBambi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BangtanBambi) for the two final pattern ideas that I merged for Julian's hideous swim trunks. The rest of the trek discord server folks all had brilliant ideas as well, and I still laugh when I think about them!
> 
> The (real) campfire songs I included in this chapter are:  
> \- Auntie Monica  
> \- Edelweiss  
> \- The Other Day (I Met a Bear)  
> (and my eternal favourite camp song!)  
> \- On The Loose


	2. The Second Day

In the morning, Elim awoke to the twittering sounds of wildlife instead of the harsh blare of the alarm he used on the station. With a yawn, he moved to stretch his arms, only to find that one was trapped. Looking over, blinking away the fog of sleep, he saw that it had been stolen by Doctor Bashir. Still unconscious, Julian clutched his arm to his chest. Perhaps his morning routine could wait. 

Garak didn’t have to wait long for Bashir to awaken.

“Morning,” Julian mumbled a minute or so later, squinting at Garak, hair tousled.

“Good morning,” Garak said, returning Julian’s sleepy smile. “Might I inquire as to why you’ve commandeered my arm?”

“Oh!” Julian’s eyes widened, as he relinquished the stolen limb. “I um-” 

Garak held back a laugh, watching a flush creep up Julian’s face as he grimaced.

“If you really must know, I normally sleep with a stuffed bear. I must have assumed your arm was my Kukalaka while I was sleeping.”

“Perfectly understandable,” Garak replied with an impish smile. “I hope I was an adequate substitute?”

Julian rolled his eyes. “Shut up. I’m going to go put breakfast together.”

“And I thank you for that.” 

As Julian trotted away, Elim’s smile turned rueful. He had often imagined that if he ever woke up beside Julian, the circumstances would be very different. Even so, this camping had its merits, the hoodie he still wore being among them.

When Garak joined Bashir at the remnants of last night’s fire, the doctor was staring across the lake, a half eaten apple in hand. 

“Julian,” Elim said, taking a seat on the rock beside him. Bashir looked tired, more so than he had mere minutes ago. Concern bubbled in Garak’s stomach. His posture was off as well, far too closed in, with hunched shoulders and crossed forearms, apple seemingly forgotten. “Is everything alright?”

Julian’s head jerked up, and he looked at Garak, startled. He must have been very far away.

Settling again, Bashir pressed his lips together. “I’m fine I just.... You know that I don’t usually take shore leave. Well, this time, Commander Sisko gave me an order to go get some rest. I don’t know if you heard what happened in the Gamma Quadrant…”

“I heard rumours.”

“I suppose word travels fast. Well, when I woke up in that room on the Founder’s planet, I didn’t know what was real. The simulation had been so vivid. I wouldn’t know if I was in another one now. It was so disorienting to wake up, not knowing I had been asleep, and to find out that you were- that everything was- the dominion…” Julian sucked in a breath. “Well, weird stuff happens all the time on Deep Space Nine, and hell, I stopped keeping count of my near death experiences a year ago, but I guess this time it got to me,” he finished with a weak laugh.

“I think that any sane person would be affected by that,” Garak murmured.

“I’ve just had too much time to think. Normally I like to stay busy.”

“I understand,” Garak said. He did understand. Tailoring kept his mind off of some of the less pleasant aspects of his exile. Julian himself, however, was the best diversion he could ask for.

“Thank you for coming with me to Bajor. I didn’t want to be alone,” Julian said, offering Garak a smile. A hundred responses welled up in Elim’s throat, all of them too much. He settled on a single word.

“Always.”

Before he had time to recalculate, decide that yes, that too was a mistake, Julian pulled him into a hug. Amazed, Elim wrapped his arms around the doctor. 

“What would I do without you?” Julian asked. Despite the fact that his face was pressed into the crook of Garak’s neck, Garak could hear Julian’s smile.

“I’m sure that you would expire almost immediately,” Elim said, patting him on the back. Julian pulled away with a grin, and already, Garak missed his warmth.

“I think I just need to take a break,” Bashir said, rolling his neck. “Have a lazy morning.”

“I couldn’t agree more. I noticed that last night you had a copy of a paper book with you?”

“Ah, it’s an anthology of translated Klingon poetry!” Julian brightened a little. “I found it in the antiques shop on the Promenade a couple months ago. It’s quite fascinating.”

“Does it feature any of Katogh’s works?”

“An entire segment. Would you mind terribly if I abandoned you for a little to read? I think I need some time to myself.”

“By all means,” Garak intoned. With a grateful smile, Julian unfolded his limbs, and headed for the tent. 

“There’s another apple and some granola in my bag,” The doctor called behind him. 

Julian always worked so hard. Even on the station, it was a struggle to convince him to care for himself before others. Time and time again, he would show up for lunch exhausted, choosing to work on research, or take extra shifts in the infirmary instead of sleeping. Garak supposed he didn’t have the right to be upset, given his track record of neglecting medical concerns, but he was glad that this once, he had managed to nudge Julian in the direction of the self care he needed. He too needed some time to sort out his thoughts.

Garak took to wandering. Fetching his sunglasses from his pack, and leaving the hoodie beside Julian’s, he retrieved the offered apple and granola, then roved over the bedrock. Kneeling here and there, he inspected the wild plants. A minute shrub with small pink flowers caught his eye. Would it take well to being potted? 

The amount of space around him was incredible. No walls, or shops, or harsh fluorescent lights. The open sky was a brilliant blue again, warmth beating down on Garak’s back. Heading down to the right side of the rock, where boulders were tumbled in a heap, Garak picked his way down to the water. A near slip on a stone that wobbled gave him pause. He had to be careful of his footing here. There was something soothing about the way he had to move across the boulders, a mindfulness to his steps. The lake was more ruffled today, a gentle breeze whipping up wavelets that sparkled in the sunlight.

Taking a seat on a rock close to the water’s edge, Garak inhaled a deep breath. This whole ‘camping trip’ seemed like an odd dream. Julian made him food, sang for him, argued with him, and slept next to him, but did it all as a friend. They were alone together on Bajor, as friends. If Garak wasn’t having such an excellent time, he would be inclined to believe that Julian was tormenting him on purpose. Surely the man must know how his actions were received. For such a brilliant doctor, Bashir could be rather oblivious when it came to people.

The minutes trickled by like warm honey as Garak sat. His thoughts wound around themselves in a null loop as he ate his light breakfast. They grew quieter as the sounds of the air and water worked their way into Elim’s head instead.

When Garak got up, he felt almost boneless. The land had washed away his worries, if only for a moment. Perhaps he should check on Julian. 

When Garak reached the tent, he poked his head through the open flap. Julian sat cross legged, still completely engrossed in his book. He hadn’t even noticed Garak. With a smile, Elim let him be. Back to wandering. As Garak searched for a direction to go, his eye caught on the fluttering fabric of the hammock. Perhaps he would have more success getting into it than dear Julian.

As it turned out, a graceless flop, holding the hammock open as he swung a leg into the belly of it proved to be the most effective. After a bit of determined wiggling, Garak lay on his back, looking up at the sun dappled leaves and pine needles above.

The hammock swayed from his movements, and was incredibly comfortable. Garak blinked sleepily, reluctantly soothed by the swinging. Perhaps he should reevaluate his determination that hammocks were only for infants. He could imagine them having some success as a stress treatment, with the gentle embrace of the fabric and the push and pull of the swing.

It was very odd, sitting in the hammock, not a task in sight. Garak idly wondered if he should have brought a couple PADDs with him to work on designs. Whether he should or should not have was irrelevant at this point. He was here, and had nothing to do. It was curiously pleasant. Elim listened to the sound of the breeze in the treetops and yawned.

“Garak?” Garak opened his eyes, confused. Julian stood above him, smiling. “Enjoying the hammock, are you?”

“Hmmg?” Elim replied inelegantly, blinking away the fog of sleep. He was not normally one for drifting off during the day.

“Sorry, I didn’t think you were actually asleep!” Julian said, a hand flying up to cover his mouth.

“Neither did I,” Garak mumbled, mental faculties returning. When had he fallen asleep? “But yes, I am enjoying the hammock.”

“Well, if you’re awake now, I think you’ll like this poem. You said a week or so ago that you appreciated the commentary on gender roles in  _ T’shunel’s Last Epic _ . Now,  _ Love Without Fists _ by Sogoth is a fascinating exploration of gender roles in Klingon same-sex courtship.”

“Is that so?” Garak said, heaving himself to a seated position in the hammock.

“How much do you know about Klingon courtship rituals?” Julian asked, fingers tapping on the book’s cover as he grinned.

“I understand that there is quite a bit of violence, and some poetry involved.”

“That’s right, but it’s important to note that women are generally the ones throwing punches, whereas the men read the love poetry,” Bashir explained, handing over the book. “Page fifty-six. It’s not very long, but it’s from the heart.”

Flipping to the specified page, Garak relished the feel of paper in his hands. Too much of his reading was done on a PADD. He cleared his throat.

“ Your fists hurt me as they should not, filled with a tainted passion-”

“Oh, you’re reading it out loud? That’s great! I always find that poetry is better heard than read.”

“I do agree. Let me begin again. Your fists hurt me as they should not, filled with a tainted passion. A broken rib-”

Julian was rocking the hammock, throwing his leg over the edge and pulling himself into it. 

“Really?” Garak sighed. Once Julian was fully settled into the hammock, he shot Garak a grin. He was pressed shoulder to shoulder with him, peering at the book.

“Before I begin for the third time, do you have anything else to say?”

“I think I’m done now,” Julian said unapologetically. Cheeky. With a pointed look, Garak waited a couple more seconds, and finally recited the poem in its entirety.

“Garak, that was wonderful.”

“Why thank you. I do pride myself on my ability to capture nuance.”

“I’m sure it would be better in the original Klingon, but wasn’t that an intriguing observation of internalized homophobia?” Julian said, frankly bubbling with literary euphoria.

“The sorrow Sogoth feels is clear. One doesn’t often hear of the collateral damage surrounding that phenomenon.”

“Mmm. Can’t you just feel the love radiating from the poem?” Julian said, swinging his legs. “Sogoth would love this man however he courted him, but he just wants his lover to be true to himself. Pass me the book will you?”

Garak did so, and Julian flipped through the pages.

“I think you might like this one too,” he said, straightening up a little. Shooting a quick smile at Garak he launched into a recitation. 

So it went, that Garak and Julian read each other poem after poem, debating their merits as the sun rose higher in the sky. As delightful as it was, with Julian pressed against him by the physics of the hammock as they read, Garak was starting to go numb. 

“I believe that Katogh’s works are of a more dynamic nature, suited for a changing Empire. Speaking of movement, I can only sit still for so long before my old bones start seizing up,” Garak segued, hauling himself out of the hammock. 

“Mmm,” Julian agreed, hopping to the ground. “I was getting a little stiff too, but I didn’t want to say anything. We were having so much fun!” 

Bashir grinned, stretching his arms above his head, book clutched in both hands. Garak rolled his neck and shoulders, and was rewarded with a few satisfying crackles.

“What fabulous plans do you have for us now?” Garak inquired.

“I don’t have anything planned in particular. Do you have any ideas?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to another swim.”

They spent the rest of the morning in the water, even going so far as to swim the short way across the lake to the other side, where the woods held untold mysteries. Garak was loath to admit it, but Julian was a faster swimmer than he was, stroking efficiently across the water. A dozen metres ahead, the doctor was treading water, waiting for Garak to catch up. Blame it on the young man’s boundless energy, and more hydrodynamic physique.

“Shall we?” Julian asked as Garak approached, turning to face the ever nearing opposite shoreline.

“After you,” Garak replied. With a grin, Bashir dove under the water. Like this, he swam at the same speed as Garak, who stroked above him on the surface. Elim turned his head to the side for a breath, looking away from the elegant form of the doctor below him. Well, elegant except for the atrocious swim trunks.

Suddenly, there was a sharp jab to Elim’s ribcage. He whirled to his side, as Julian popped up from the water.

“The look on your face!” Julian laughed.

“I am quite reasonably affronted!” Garak exclaimed. “I was under the impression that I was going to survive this swim unmolested,” he huffed. He would get Julian for this, later, when he was least expecting it.

“I was under the impression that Cardassian skin was tougher,” Bashir teased, sinking below the surface again. 

Plans a-brewing, Garak continued to head for the shore. 

The far bank was pebbly, small chunks of bedrock wrapped in encroaching tree roots and squishy mud. Julian took the lead, pulling himself up onto land, half climbing the bottoms of the trees. Garak followed, perhaps a little more carefully. The forest was thicker here, less light filtering through the canopy. The terrain too was rougher, jagged swells of land coated in a slippery carpet of browned pine needles.

Elim and Julian stood spellbound. This was the wilderness. Dripping water onto the ground, feet bare, Garak scarcely dared to breathe. He had a foolish sense that the woods could feel him standing there, undecided on whether he was friend or foe. He felt alive. 

Julian looked at him, eyes wide. The untouched silence of this place had not escaped him either. An unspoken agreement passed between them, and they stepped further into the trees, footfalls light. It would not do to show disrespect. 

“Look,” Julian murmured as they crested a small hill. Between them and the next hill, a violet patch of flowers coated the ground. Descending into the little valley, Garak knelt before the flowers. His gardener’s training kicked in, as he mentally ran through possible ways to display the curiously pointed petals. Bashir knelt beside him, a half smile crossing his face. The flowers belonged to no one, but this moment belonged to the two of them. 

The crunch of needles from above had Garak shooting to his feet. On the ridge ahead of them, a grey beast the size of a child’s riding hound stood, staring directly at them. Its wide snout and deep brown eyes were those of a predator, not to mention its claws.

“It’s time to go,” Julian hissed. “I think that’s a krelo bear.”

So that was what a bear looked like.

“Slowly,” Garak murmured, stepping back carefully. The animal’s posture was not threatening as of yet. He hoped it could not sense the pounding of his heart.

As he and Julian backed away, the bear’s gaze did not leave them. The sounds of lapping water grew closer behind them as they fled, agonizingly slowly. As they half crawled back over the first hill, the bear lumbered down into the flowered valley. Julian looked at Garak, eyes wide. He looked as scared as Elim felt.

The bear looked up at them once more, then began nosing among the flowers, apparently uninterested. Not willing to test that assumption, Garak and Julian slithered down the hill as quietly as possible, and slipped back into the water. With a furious splashing, they fled the dark shore, not slowing until they had swam almost a quarter of the way back across the lake.

Treading water and panting, Julian broke out laughing. “We could have been mauled to death!”

“I fail,” Garak gasped. “To see how that’s funny.”

“No, no, you see, on Deep Space Nine, I almost die every other week! Hell, I just escaped the dominion, and a bear takes me out in the end, a bear!”

Despite himself, Garak could see the humour in the situation. “I survive all the trials and tribulations of my prior existence, and even my wire tearing my brain apart, only to meet my end at the mouth of an indifferent beast. You’re quite right. It’s the very essence of comedy.” Garak grinned, taking a moment to float on his back, squinting up into the bright blue sky.

“It’s even funnier because we didn’t die!”

“I do enjoy continuing to exist,” Garak chuckled. A year or two ago, that statement would have been much farther from the truth, but here he was, laughing with a close friend. How times had changed.

“Well, I’m starved,” Julian sighed, the last of his laughs fading to a smile.

“Would I be correct in assuming that you have some form of messy earth delicacy planned for our luncheon?”

“That you would be,” Bashir replied. So, the pair resumed their swim, at a pace more suited to their falling adrenaline levels. The sun drenched spot of rock grew closer, until the massive slab of bedrock they camped on loomed above them again. 

Garak hung back as they approached the sloping edge, letting Julian take the lead in returning to dry land. Once he was certain Julian was far enough away, he dove underwater and headed for the square green boulder he had taken note of during his last swim. Reaching into the crevice a little to the left of it, he felt around for a round rock. Fingers closing around it, Garak returned to the surface. 

At the shore, it was a little more challenging to make his way up the slippery rock with one hand full, but he managed. Stepping out of the water, Garak maneuvered his way past Julian, who had already changed back into his cargo pants and t-shirt. Walking at just the right angle, the round stone was concealed at his side. Fetching his clothes from his pack, Elim simultaneously stowed the rock in the bottom. With any luck, his sentimentality would stay a secret.

Dry again, Garak headed back out to the fire pit, which was once again stacked with sticks. Julian sat, tucking twigs between the larger branches.

“Today’s lunch is hot dogs,” he grinned, gesturing with a clear container full of pinkish… Tentacles? Tubes? Sticks? Garak was entirely unsure of what he was getting himself into. He could only hope that it would not be too different from yesterday’s dinner.

“I was under the impression that a dog was an Earth animal kept as a pet, not a source of food,” Garak said, eyeing the ‘hot dogs’ suspiciously.

“Ah yes, it’s a bit of a misnomer. Originally they were called wieners, which is also a breed of dog, and the name evolved as a play on that double meaning.”

“Your Federation Standard seems to be full of these linguistic curiosities,” Garak noted.

“It’s a patchwork of so many languages, I’m surprised it’s not more complicated than it is.” Julian said, passing Garak a box of matches. “Here, you seemed to have better luck lighting it last time.”

“Very wise of you to defer to my expertise,” Garak quipped, striking a match. 

“Wise of me to make you do it so I don’t have to,” Julian retorted with a grin.

“A mutually beneficial arrangement, since I am interested in eating lunch sooner rather than later after you have tried and failed to light the fire a couple times.”

“I’m not that incomptent! I’m a trained officer,” Julian complained.

“Well, I suppose we won’t get the chance to test that assumption,” Garak said loftily as the fire began to smoke, kindling igniting. He was very glad that he had managed to light the fire first try. Had he failed, Elim was sure Julian would have taken the opportunity to eviscerate him. What fun was a game without a risk?

“Oh, shush,” Julian grumbled. He was smiling.

Stomachs growling before long, the two of them agreed to be damned with waiting for coals to form, and take their chances with the flames. Julian passed Garak a long stick, impaling one of the hot dogs on the end of his own branch. 

The cooking process was more difficult than Elim had expected, as evidenced by the hot dog that now lay hissing and burning on one of the logs.

“I heard you saying something about incompetence earlier?” Bashir teased. 

“Your words, not mine. I claim no such frailty. Perhaps I dropped my hot dog on purpose,” Garak declared.

“And what purpose might that be?” Julian asked, calling his bluff. Yes, the game Garak played was childish, not up to his usual standard of wit, but he was on vacation, was he not? If there was ever a time to let his brain go to jelly, this was it. Probably a side effect of his heart softening in much the same way.

“Flavour.”

“I’m going to hold you to that, Garak! You’re pulling your hot dog out of the fire and eating it,” Julian exclaimed. A burnt meal was a small price to pay for the look of delight on his friend’s face, and him being the cause of it.

As it turned out, even burnt, the hot dog was palatable when drenched in the various condiments associated with it. 

“You know Garak,” Julian said around a mouthful of food. “If you weren’t so stubborn you could be eating a properly cooked hot dog right now.”

Inconveniently, as Bashir said that, Garak swallowed a small piece of charcoal that had embedded itself in his meal, and choked a little. He really was proving Julian’s point.

“If I weren’t, you would worry,” Elim said fondly, once the chunk of burnt wood worked its way out of airway blocking range.

“Quite rightly,” Julian grinned.

Garak managed to cook his second hot dog beautifully, and found the taste much improved. Refueled, he and Bashir were ready for whatever adventure would find them next.

“Thank you for cheering me up this morning, Garak,” Julian said, putting away the box of condiments.

“I did nothing,” Garak replied. It was the doctor’s own resilience that had allowed him to bounce back.

“No, you listened to me. You gave me the space I needed and then the distraction I needed,” Julian explained. “I mean, yes, the Founder’s simulation is definitely going to be the focus of my counselling session this month, and probably the next, but you helped me get out of my head and forget it for a while.”

“I’m glad I could help,” Garak said softly. 

Julian smiled. “You’re a good friend.”

Well, Elim was really in for it now.

Their next adventure turned out to be not much of an adventure at all. Both out of plans, Garak wanted to soak up some of the hot Bajoran sun while it was at its strongest, before returning to the cold of Deep Space Nine. He headed down the rock, closer to the water, and sat overlooking the lake.

“Mind if I join you?” Julian called from behind him.

“By all means,” Garak said. Bashir crossed his legs and sat beside him, but in a moment he lay sprawled, limbs in all directions. Elim had to admit that it looked more comfortable than sitting rigidly like he was. With a bit of scooching, he made enough space between him and the doctor to do the same. He laid down, but must have misjudged the distance, because his head landed on Julian’s outstretched arm. Garak lifted his head and looked at Bashir, but he made no effort to move his arm. The polite thing to do would be to move farther away. Elim didn’t.

Eyes closed, head pillowed on Julian’s arm, Garak absorbed the sunshine. He could practically feel his blood flowing more quickly, his scales gaining lustre. The warmth seeped into him. It was as pleasant as any Cardassian sauna, more so given the company.

After basking for what could have been ten minutes or half an hour, Garak’s companion became regrettably fidgety. Julian’s arm wiggled beneath him, and the sound of fabric scraping against rock interrupted the ambiance of the lake and the breeze.

“Sorry,” Bashir whispered, retracting his arm.

“Mmm,” Garak mumbled, pulled out of his relaxed stupor. He squinted up at Julian who paced above him, arms swinging.

“I really can’t sit still very long,” he said sheepishly.

“You were doing quite well.”

“I’ll leave you be,” Julian grinned. Garak heard his retreating footsteps up the rock, and attempted to return to his near meditative state.

Yes, the sun was warm, but having been brought back to the real world, the discomfort of lying on the bare ground caught up to Garak. His basking time was over. With a sigh, he sat up, opening his eyes. The blue of the lake and sky were incredibly vivid, and Garak blinked against them.

“Do you want to play tennis?” Julian called as Elim approached him.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I brought my racquet and a spare,” Bashir explained, gesturing with what, yes, appeared to be a tennis racquet. The request seemed only a little less odd, when considering that it came from Julian.

“Considering that you’ve managed to bring a tent, stools, food, clothes, water, a grill, a hammock and now two tennis racquets, I may have to rescind my complaint that your backpack was too large. However did you fit all that in there?” Garak said, stalling for time while he scoured his brain for the rules of tennis that Julian had explained to him months ago.

“Carefully,” Bashir laughed.

“I applaud your packing prowess,” Garak said, catching the racquet Julian tossed at him on instinct. He hadn’t exactly agreed to the game of wild tennis, but the small yellow ball was lobbed at him as well.

“Your serve,” Bashir proclaimed, dropping into an athletic stance.

Tossing the ball into the air a few times, Garak familiarized himself with its motion, how fast it fell. Tossing it one more time above his head, he swatted the ball in Julian’s general direction, executing what he figured was a passable serve.

With a forehand strike, Julian returned the ball. Tracking its motion, Garak lunged and swung, only just just catching it with the edge of his racquet. Perhaps this sport was not as easy as his dear doctor made it seem.

The next few volleys made that apparent. Julian returned his every shot with ease while Garak chased the ball around like a fool. He hit it more often than he missed it, but found himself panting within a few minutes. Julian stood cool and composed, expending the minimum energy with light, precise swings.

“Not bad for your first time playing tennis,” Julian called, executing a neat backhand.

“Is it that obvious?” Garak puffed, leaping to smack at the ball.

“Yes.” 

Julian grinned devilishly. His arm whipped through the air, and before Garak could blink, the tennis ball had whizzed past his head.

“You’ve been going easy on me!” Elim gaped. 

“Yes.” Julian’s smile grew. “My overhand won me quite a few tournaments back in my Academy days.”

“I should hope so,” Garak grumbled, heading into the forest to fetch the ball. Point to Julian. 

Garak’s next serve was returned more equitably, but the knowledge that Julian could destroy him at any moment took some of the thrill out of his successful strike when the ball came back his way. Even netless, with not a chance of winning, Elim enjoyed this tennis. He did not have much chance for exercise on the station, nor games.

When Julian declared himself the winner, having counted up points on his fingers, and suggested a snack, Garak was all for it. As fun as the tennis was, he was not as young, or as fit as he used to be.

Sitting on the rocks, Julian rummaged in his enormous pack, retrieving a small bag of dried fruit. “Good game!” he exclaimed, placing the opened bag between them.

“Was it?” Garak said incedulously, selecting a shriveled beige loop from the colourful mixture.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I had fun.”

“I did enjoy myself, but I was no match for you.” Elim pointed out. The fruit he bit into was sweet, and unexpectedly chewy.

Julian shrugged, popping a small red fruit into his mouth. “That doesn’t matter. Would you be happy if my every literary analysis was up to your exacting standard? Tennis is something I could teach you.”

“I would appreciate that,” Garak said honestly. Any time spent with the doctor was time he cherished.

“Oh! But not right now, look at the time,” Julian exclaimed as he looked at the sky. “Pack your bag Garak, we’re going on a hike!”

“Ah, I thought you had no more plans for the day.”

“I lied. This one is time sensitive,”Julian grinned.

“How devious,” Garak intoned, returning his mischievous smile. 

It only took Elim a couple minutes to remove what he needed from his backpack, leaving water, his swimsuit (just in case), a towel, and sunglasses. He was grateful that Julian had instructed him to bring study footwear on the trip, as his daily wear was quite unsuitable for any form of rough terrain.

As expected, Bashir’s pack was more stuffed than his own, hiding whatever he had in store for the hike.

“Good. You’re ready?” Julian asked, breezing past Garak.

“I can only hope,” Garak quipped. Bashir stood squinting at the trees the bedrock emerged from, and apparently satisfied, stepped through a gap in them.

“Come on!” he called, turning back to face Garak. “Adventure awaits!”

The gap in the trees resolved itself into a narrow path, winding around mossy boulders and over fallen logs. 

“I would ask where we’re going but I don’t think you’ll tell me,” Garak said, as Julian hopped over a mud puddle on the trail.

“You’d be right!”

As far as Garak could tell, they were heading southeast, along the edge of the lake, but deeper into the forest. Walking through the trees, away from the late afternoon sun, the hike was peaceful. The breeze rustled the leaves, and the conversation was stimulating.

After half an hour, the terrain grew rockier, and the path became steeper. In some places, Garak was more climbing than walking. The noise of rushing water came from ahead of them, and Elim was starting to form a picture of what they might be hiking to.

From atop a boulder, Bashir held out a hand. Garak took it, letting Julian help pull him up. He might have been able to surmount the boulder faster by himself, but who was he to deny Julian an opportunity to be chivalrous?

As he reached the top of the rock, his breath caught. They looked over a torrent of rushing water, splashing against the sides of a rocky gulch. Up here, the noise was near deafening, but the sight was incredible.

Julian grinned at Elim, wordlessly. Garak sank to the ground. Julian sat beside him. Elim had never been religious, but this masterpiece of nature demanded worship. This river was flowing long before Garak was born, scooping away the very earth in its course, and would flow long after he was dead, never stopping or quieting.

Julian placed a hand on his forearm. The wonder Garak felt was reflected in his eyes. The pair sat together. The river’s roar drowned all but the deepest of Elim’s thoughts. Years alone on the station had dulled him to life, put a tarnish over him that he hadn’t noticed until he was seeing with fresh eyes. Now, he was not watching numbly from a distance. He was  _ here _ . 

A couple minutes passed, and Julian tugged on Garak’s arm. He gestured down the rock with a smile. Apparently, it was time to move on. Heading back down the boulder, the noise of the rapids became muted again.

“Sorry to pull you away, but we need to be elsewhere in a couple minutes,” Julian explained, once words were again possible. Garak nodded.

They headed down a steep path that cut beside the riverbank, held together by roots and rocks. Through the trees, Garak glimpsed stripes of the river. Ducking under one final cloud of branches, he and Bashir stepped out onto a rock outcropping that overlooked the river. Here, the rapids had turned into a veritable waterfall. They stood about halfway up it, water thundering only a couple metres away from them. The edge of the rock closest to the water was soaked, but the far end was dry and flat. 

“How did you find this place?” Garak asked. The river was just showing off at this point. 

“Actually, I asked Major Kira if she knew any good places for shore leave on Bajor,” Julian admitted. “She went camping here with Vedek Bareil.”

“Is that so?”

“She also said that this spot in particular was great for picnics,” Bashir said, dropping his pack.

“You did put quite a lot of research into this trip,” Garak chuckled as Bashir retrieved a blanket, and various food items from his pack.

“Only the best for my dearest tailor,” Julian grinned coyly, tilting his head mock-demurely. Garak rolled his eyes. This flirtation must surely be outrageous, even by human standards.

“What culinary delights do you have in store for us?” Garak asked, examining the array Bashir had set up on the blanket.

“Just sandwiches.” 

“You don’t happen to have any cutlery in that backpack of yours, do you?”

“Garak, you’re the only person I know who eats a sandwich with a fork and knife,” Julian groaned. “I’m going to train that out of you if it kills me.”

“I prefer to eat like a person, not an animal,” Garak replied primly.

“You’re just fussy,” Julian grinned, bumping him with his shoulder. “Sit down, make a sandwich. It won’t kill you.”

Garak huffed, but sat on the blanket. He could see down the river, and to his surprise, they were close to the lake. At the bottom of the waterfall, the river ran straight, and widened into a shallow, pebbly delta. They had hiked to the river that let in at the south end of the lake. The evening light shone through the gap in the trees, sparkling off the bubbling water.

As Garak made his sandwich, the low sunlight turned the woods golden.

“Mayonnaise?” Julian asked, holding out the small bottle.

“Yes please.”

“Garak…” Julian began. When nothing else was said, Garak frowned.

“Yes?”

“Do you ever get lonely?”

“Why do you ask?” Garak evaded. The answer was yes. Always.

“Well, I guess what I’m really asking is if you ever, um, you know?” Julian frowned, gesturing with a slice of bread.

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” Elim replied, growing more suspicious by the minute. 

“You and I, we’ve been friends for almost two years now, yes?”

“I do believe that is an accurate timeline,” Garak said warily.

“You mean a lot to me, Garak,” Julian said, smiling hopefully. “When we first met you were so- and I was rather- but now you see we-” he rambled, faltering. “I’m not making any sense am I?”

“None at all,” Garak frowned. The doctor was hiding something, but in all those words, he couldn’t figure out what it was. Whatever motive Julian truly had for inviting him camping, Garak sensed that it would soon be revealed. He was not looking forward to that likely unpleasant moment.

“What I’m really trying to say is that-” Julian cut himself off, eyes wide. “Oh look! Look at the waterfall! It’s just like Kira said!”

Garak turned to face the cascade. In the sunset’s light, the mist had turned to red gold. 

“She called them fire falls,” Julian murmured.

“I can see why,” Garak breathed. The water’s glow was ethereal.

“How’s that for dinner and a show?”

“Pardon me?”

“Earth expression,” Bashir explained with a wave of his sandwich.

“In that case, it’s quite lovely.”

Garak and Julian ate their sandwiches, accompanied by the waterfall’s majesty. By the time the meal was crumbs, the sun had sank below the horizon. The water was again water, and the sky was dimming.

“Would you like to head back?” Julian asked, stuffing his containers back into his pack.

“In a moment,” Garak replied. He stood, walking to the damp edge of the rock. Reaching his hand out, he touched the downpour of the waterfall. The droplets thundered against his fingers with unexpected force. The terrain on Cardassia rarely let rivers flow like this. Breathing in the mist, Garak turned back to face Julian.

“It’s so beautiful,” the doctor said, stepping beside him. The pair stood, arms outstretched for a moment, feeling the waterfall’s power.

“I’m ready to go.” Garak said, shaking his hand dry.

“Worth the hike?” Julian asked, stepping back onto the path.

“Very much so.”

As the pair began the trek back to the campsite, the forest grew darker. Night was approaching. 

“You didn’t bring a torch by any chance, did you?” Garak asked. The level of light was comfortable for him, but he knew that humans had poorer night vision than Cardassians.

“Damn,” Bashir hissed. “I left it beside the sleeping bags.”

“I suggest that we hurry up then,” Elim said. He was fairly sure he would be able to find his way in the full dark, but would rather reduce their chances of getting lost in the woods tonight.

“Can you go in front?” Julian asked. “You can see better than me in the dark.”

“Very sensible.” 

The climb back up the steep riverside path was strenuous, made more so by the speed required. By the time Garak reached the original rapids, he was out of breath. 

Blinking at the trees ahead, he realized that none of them were familiar.

“Do you recall which way…” he said.

“There,” Julian pointed.

With a businesslike nod, Elim forged ahead, sweeping branches away from his face. The path sloped downhill. Perhaps it was inadvisable, but Garak let his momentum take over, and he half jogged down the incline. The crackle of brush behind him told him that his companion was still with him. 

A quick look behind him, to verify that the doctor was traversing the hill safely, was Elim’s downfall. No longer watching the terrain, a misstep into a slippery pile of leaves had Garak’s legs sliding out from under him.

He fell backwards.

Instead of bouncing off the ground, his head and shoulders were caught in a warm grip. 

“Goodness,” Garak gasped, momentary burst of adrenaline fading away. “It seems that all your tennis practice has given you excellent reflexes.”

“Well, you caught me yesterday when I fell out of the hammock,” Julian grinned, hauling Garak to his feet. “It was only fair to return the favour.”

“And it is much appreciated,” Elim said, patting Julian on the hand that still held his elbow.

“You didn’t hit your head, did you?” Bashir confirmed, inspecting him for damage.

“I’m quite alright,” Garak replied. “Onwards?”

During the rest of the hike, Elim was more conscious of where he stepped. As the last of the light faded from the sky, he and Julian returned to the familiar territory of the campsite.

“We made it!” Julian crowed, dropping his pack to the ground. He twisted at the waist, and Garak heard a few crackles and pops. Putting his own bag on the ground, he stretched as well. If it were a competition, his joints would have won in terms of loudness. Not that it was a competition, of course.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m sweating,” Bashir sighed, wiping his hand across his forehead.

“Cardassians don’t sweat,” Garak pointed out. “But I am rather warm.”

“Hmm. Want to go for a swim?” Julian asked with a devilish grin.

“Ah, an excellent idea,” Garak said, turning back around to rummage in his pack. His swimsuit had become tangled in his towel, despite his neat folding. He was nearly done pulling it out when Julian called out from behind him.

“Have you ever gone skinny dipping?”

“Skinny-?” Garak looked over his shoulder, and his brain ground to a screeching halt. 

Julian was trying to  _ kill him _ . That’s what it was. Doctor Bashir had violated his Hippocratic Oath and was going to torture him to death.

Before him, Julian stood unclothed. A bundle of strategically held cloth maintained the barest shred of modesty, but the rest was all smooth brown skin. Garak couldn’t stop his eyes tracing the long lines of limbs, the panes of fine muscle. If Cardassians had heart attacks as often as humans, he was sure he would be having one now.

“Doctor!” Garak hissed, staring at him beseechingly.

“Don’t look so offended Garak!” Julian teased. “This is a time honoured camping tradition among friends.”

Offended. Yes. Let Julian assume that was what he was feeling now. Fighting to get his racing heart under control, he managed a reply. “You humans are exhibitionists, all of you.” Execute a roll of the eyes, good, Julian would suspect nothing.

Julian grinned. “I promise you, it's a totally new swimming experience.”

“The things you get me to do,” Garak grumbled. Of course, this was just some other platonic human ritual, devoid of all the romance that should be attached to it.

“I’ll meet you in the water,” Julian said with a laugh. As Julian walked away, dropping his bundle of clothes, Garak shed his layers. Tunic, undershirt, pants, undergarments. Less than he would have been wearing, were he on the chilly station. The still warm night air was startling, but not unpleasant on his skin.

A splash let him know that Julian was now concealed by the water. Stepping carefully down to the edge of the lake, he too dove into the water. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. The water was cool, and it embraced his whole body. His movements were unrestricted. Elim was weightless. His head broke the surface, beside Julian.

“You’re right. This is a completely new experience,” Garak conceded.

“Told you so,” Bashir said with a smug smile. 

“I still find it hard to believe that you humans find this nudity to be perfectly platonic,” Garak prodded, treading water.

“Well, it really depends on the company. Nudity has varied roles in human culture, and not all of them are sexual. You see it a lot in art, as the truest depiction of the human form, and many people find that shedding their clothes helps them feel more comfortable, and closer to nature,” Bashir explained. To Garak’s delight, he had slipped into lecture mode, eyes alight with the thrill of sharing knowledge.

“How interesting!” Garak said. “On Cardassia, this would be considered quite indecent.”

“Good thing we’re not on Cardassia!” Julian hooted, disappearing under the water with a splash, and a kick of his legs.

Elim was tired of the agonizing ambiguity of human traditions. Every overture of courtship was revealed to be yet another gesture of friendship. It was enough to drive a man mad. With a gusty sigh, Garak let his body float horizontal. He gazed up at the stars, and the five moons hanging overhead. They didn’t have any answers either. 

A splash and a gasp from behind him signalled Julian’s return to the air-based world.

“Garak, come underwater with me, you have to see this,” he hissed. Elim turned to face him. His eyes were aglow with delight. 

The pair sank below the water. The blurry outline of Julian’s face, surrounded by dark waves of hair tilted upwards. A hand brushed Garak’s arm, a signal to do the same.

Keeping himself below the surface with small propelling motions, he peered up at the surface of the water. It rippled above him, crushing and remodeling the moonlight into a thousand different dancing shapes. It looked like a long forgotten dream, or an alien world. Yet another new joy that Julian had brought to his life.

Bashir surfaced, and an idea came to Garak. Diving deeper, he swam at Julian’s legs, giving one a sharp tug as he passed by, dunking him underwater again. By the time Bashir resurfaced, spluttering, Garak was a plausible distance away, face a picture of innocence.

“Garak!” he exclaimed. “What was that for?”

“What was what for?”

“Why did you pull my leg?”

“If you recall, this morning you treated me to a similarly well intentioned jab in the ribs as we crossed the lake. I swore then that I would have my revenge,” Gark proclaimed, perhaps a touch dramatically, as he swam back over.

“Oh, come on! You were fine with the splashing yesterday. Why would this incur your wrath?” Julian laughed, flicking some water Garak’s way.

“The splashing was a self contained incident, a game with set rules, although you did spring it on me without notice.”

“I think you greatly overestimate the formality of a splash fight,” Julian snorted.

“Maybe so.”

Julian’s smile was fond, and Garak’s heart ached.

The lake around them was calming as the day’s winds died, the largest ripples being caused by their own movements. This night swim in the nude was thrilling, even though there was nobody around for kilometers. Something could definitely be said for cultural exchange, Garak thought, stealing a glance at Julian’s exposed collarbones. 

If the good doctor happened to kill him with some even more outrageous human tradition before the night was up, Elim would die a happy man. He looked into Julian’s eyes. Perhaps when his time truly came, he wouldn’t die alone, as he always thought he would. Perhaps one stubborn doctor would be there to watch him go, or even try to pull him back from the brink.

“Look at the stars,” Julian murmured. Garak thought he already was. He floated on his back, head close to his companion’s, and they looked up into space together.

“They’re the same stars we see on the station.”

“You never really look at them though, do you?” Julian whispered.

“They look different from down here,” Elim intoned softly. It was a sentimental statement, but his Julian made sentiment inevitable. Oh, he was far gone, and entirely too happy about it.

“As lovely as this is, I was not built to swim uninsulated for very long,” Garak said, returning to treading water. Shivers were running down his spine, which was an unpleasantly familiar sensation.

“Well, I can’t have you freezing to death for the sake of a camping tradition,” Bashir grinned, stroking back for shore. Garak followed.

When Julian stepped out of the water, he looked like some hedonistic deity, silhouetted in the moonlight, bronze skin gleaming. It was almost more than Garak could take.

Turning, Julian offered him a hand. The chivalry of the gesture tickled Elim, and he took it with a nod and a smile. Julian guided him up the few slippery steps to dry land. 

To Garak’s surprise, Julian then yanked him forward and-

No,  _ this _ was more than Elim could take.

Julian Subatoi Bashir was kissing him. Pressed against his chest, sinking a hand into his soft human hair, he was kissing Julian Subatoi Bashir. Those warm hands gripped at his waist, his neck. It was electrifying. Garak didn’t have much experience with the human style of kissing, but going off his research, he believed he was doing a half decent job of it. Judging by the hungry press of Julian’s lips, perhaps he was doing better than decent. Elim was lost in the taste, the touch, the push and pull. He breathed in Julian’s scent. How had he gotten so lucky? 

Pushing at his chest, Julian made a couple centimeters of space between them, breaking the kiss. He didn’t go far though, keeping a hand on Garak’s upper arm.

“Elim,” he murmured, eyes wide. The look in them was almost reverent. 

Nobody had ever said his name that way, like it was a gift. The fact that Julian knew it was secondary, he knew the doctor would figure it out one day. Elim closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Julian’s. Even without cultural context, he was sure he would understand.

“That was quite overdue,” he managed after a moment, pulling his head back to look into Julian’s eyes. He was still reeling from this new turn of events.

Julian smiled, a thumb stroking Garak’s shoulder. “I know.”

“You’ve been a terrible tease,” Elim said, brushing a wet curl off of Julian’s forehead.

“Have I?” he asked, stealing a quick kiss.

“Absolutely horrible,” Garak growled, pressing his lips to Julian’s throat. “For years.”

“I’ve been a bit oblivious,” Julian breathed, tilting his head back. Elim continued his ministrations, and was rewarded with a hissed intake of breath. “You know, I meant to tell you this earlier, but I didn’t have the nerve,” Bashir said. Garak was gratified to hear that his voice sounded a little strained. “You looked very good in your swimsuit, but you look even better without it.”

Elim snorted into Julian’s neck. His clothes were his most attractive feature.

“Ack! That tickles!”

“I apologize, but you must be joking,” Garak chuckled, pulling back.

“I’m not.”

To Elim’s surprise, he could see the truth of this statement in the way Julian’s gaze lingered on his chest, his eyes, his ridges.

“I wasn’t aware we were supposed to be looking,” Garak replied. 

It was Julian’s turn to laugh. “I stripped naked! I don’t think I could have been more clear!”

“You told me it was a perfectly platonic human tradition,” Garak retorted. He was close enough to see Julian’s eyes light up.

“Well, platonic in the sense that people who are friends often use it to see the ones they would like to be more than friends with naked,” Bashir replied with a devilish grin.

“What a liberal interpretation of the truth,” Elim said. Why, he quite liked that. A truly titillating piece of deception. He was starting to wonder if Julian might be more aware of the romantic implications of his behaviour than he let on.

“Maybe so.”

“Come  _ here _ .”

Elim pulled Julian into another searing kiss, making up for lost time. This time, he laced their fingers together in the Cardassian style as well.

“Julian,” Garak said when he paused for air. “As delightful as this is, why the sudden change of heart? You’ve shown no indication of being open to my advances before.”

“Wait, your advances? You’ve been flirting with me the whole time?” Bashir asked, gobsmacked.

“Julian. I could not have been more obvious.” Garak couldn’t believe his ears.

“Well, you were like that since the day we met, I thought that’s just how you were,” Julian frowned.

“Yes. Since the day we met.”

“Oh god. I’m a bit of an idiot,” Julian grimaced, burying his face in his hands. “I did suspect you might be interested, but then nothing ever happened, so I assumed I was wrong.”

“You never followed through on my offer of enjoyable company,” Garak pointed out.

“Your offer of- You were propositioning me?” Julian gasped.

“Quite clearly, as I understood it,” Garak grumbled. How could the doctor be so quick witted when it came to medicine, or debate, and so clueless here?

Julian sighed. “I think I knew the whole time. I was just scared.”

“What changed?” Elim asked simply.

“I think this is a conversation we should both have while dry and clothed. I’ve been dishonest again.”

“I see,” Garak said, a half smile tugging at his lips. What an interesting evening this was turning out to be.

Back in his tunic and trousers, Garak headed over to the hammock, where Julian stood, clad again in his t-shirt and cargo pants. He was no less alluring like this.

“Come sit with me in the hammock,” Julian prompted, backing into the hanging fabric. With a tangling of legs, and some ungraceful grunts, he and Garak were seated side by side again.

“I don’t oppose your choice of seating,” Garak said. “But I do believe we could be more comfortable.”

“Oh?”

Garak leaned back, and grabbed Julian by the waist, manoeuvring him into position. After some dedicated shuffling that left Bashir looking more confused with every passing second, he lay lengthwise in the hammock, Julian facing the same direction, back against Garak’s chest. Their legs tangled together, Elim ran a hand down Julian’s arm, lacing his fingers with Julian’s from behind.

“Comfy now?” Bashir asked, tilting his head up to press a kiss to the underside of Garak’s jaw.

“Mmm,” Elim assented.

“You asked why the change of heart,” Julian said, rubbing a thumb absently along the hand Garak had entwined with his. “I didn’t tell you this, but you were there in the Founder’s simulation.” He took a deep breath. “You were shot by a Jem’Hadar soldier, trying to protect us. I couldn’t save you. I saw you die.”

Oh my.

“I only knew then exactly how I would feel if I ever lost you. I thought I lost you.” Julian took a shaky breath. “God, Garak, it was like a hole in my chest.” Garak squeezed his hand. “My entire life changed in that moment. You were gone. I didn’t know what I was going to do without you.”

“I’m here,” Elim murmured, wrapping his other arm around Julian and pulling him closer. 

“You are,” Bashir said with a soft laugh. “I’m lucky.”

“I thought I was the lucky one,” Garak replied. It was one of the many honest things he found himself confessing to Julian.

“Flatterer,” Julian snorted. “Do you want to know something else I lied about?”

“Most definitely.” The surprises just kept on coming.

“Sisko didn’t make me go on shore leave. He asked that we all take a day off, but I requested the leave,” Bashir smirked.

“Is that so?”

“As soon as I got back to the Alpha quadrant, I knew I had to explain to you how I felt. I hatched this plan to take you camping, get you alone-”

Garak laughed. This was all too wonderful to believe.

“No, really! I even wrote notecards for this whole speech I had planned out, and when we were at the waterfall I decided I wanted to say more, which got my nicely memorized lines mixed up, and then I chickened out,” Julian chuckled, gesturing with both his hands, pulling Garak’s along with them.

“I daresay you made yourself clear in the end,” Elim teased.

“I’m glad to hear it. I’d hate for you to think I kissed you as a friend,” Julian grinned.

“I considered that possibility for a moment,” Garak countered. “You cooked a meal for me as a friend and argued literature with me as a friend. Is it so hard to believe that a kiss would be relegated to the platonic as well?”

“Well, I was trying to romance you, but it didn’t really come across that way. I managed to find some reading on Cardassian courtship rituals as part of my research for this trip, and-”

“Research?” Garak needled with his most aggravating smile.

“Shut up,” Julian grumbled. “It actually took some convincing to get Commander Sisko to teach me how to cook burgers and hot dogs. He complained the whole time that I was keeping him from his paperwork, but I think he had fun. Oh, and Major Kira thought I was crazy when I asked her about romantic spots on Bajor!”

“You were far too dedicated, going to all this trouble for me, though I laud your excellent scheming. Very Cardassian.”

“You’re worth it.” Julian said, flipping over so he lay front to front on Garak. “And thank you.” To Garak, his smile was worth more than all the stars that shone overhead.

Julian kissed him, soft and sweet. Here, in the gently rocking hammock was more than Elim had ever dared to hope for, more than he thought he deserved. No, Julian would insist that he deserved good things. How kind that the eddies of the universe had brought him someone so wonderful.

Pulling away, Julian’s smile was fond.

“Elim, will you be mine?” he murmured, breath ghosting across Garak’s lips.

“I have been since the day I met you.”

When the pair returned to the station the next day, hand in hand, there was a small stone at the bottom of Garak’s bag. Carved into it by his lover’s hand was the truth of it. Elim and Julian, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Klingon love poetry in this chapter was inspired by [this tumblr post](https://ernmark.tumblr.com/post/190244971150/do-gay-klingons-ever-get-frustrateddejected), and written by yours truly.
> 
> This fic was a WILD ride to write!! I wrote the first 6k of it from July to October, and the last 13k all in November. If you've made it this far, thank you so much!!! I poured my heart and soul into this for months on end, even when I wasn't writing. I would experience a thing camping and then go, "Hmm, sounds ficcable". Garashir has been getting me through the pandemic, honestly. I hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> Thank you so much to the discord server folks, my wonderful irl friends, and the incomparable [Tysore](https://tysore.tumblr.com/) for all their incredible ideas and moral support!!


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